Burning Through an Ice Storm
by Kalista77
Summary: Loki contemplates Stark's fighting style.


There was a saying on Asgard, "The anger of an Asgardian can burn through a storm of ice." Obviously, it was in reference to Jotunheim and the war against the Frost Giants, but, over time, the saying had come to be similar in meaning to the Midgardian phrase, "like a hurricane." It simply meant that a righteously angered warrior had the power of a firestorm, the ability to burn through an ice storm.

Loki had never been partial to that saying himself, even before he'd discovered what he was. As a mage, he thought it foolhardy to compare any efforts or abilities of men or gods, no matter how powerful, to the sheer force of nature. In any competition, nature won. This was simple fact. Thus, he had never used the phrase, never applied it to any situation. He had never found it to be true.

Until now.

Tony Stark moved like a force of nature through the battlefield. He moved like a firestorm, a hurricane, with the power of gods and ages behind him. Inevitable, unstoppable, any obstacle put in his path was soon removed by the power of his mind and the might of his knowledge.

Loki had first noticed it, in truth, during the Battle for New York involving the Chitauri. It was in the way he moved, the grace and fluidity, the easy confidence. It was the reason that Loki hadn't been able to allow the Void to take his life, though they would never know that it had been his own touch of magic to revive the fallen soldier. It was one of the first conscious decisions he made, once the Hulk's pulverizing of his spine had freed him from Thanos' grasp.

That battle was the first time he noticed it, but it was hardly the last. Once he had escaped from Asgard, pranking various locations on Midgard for the sake of drawing out the Avengers had become something of a pastime of his, and each time he often found himself in concealed awe of Stark's abilities. He was a firestorm of red and gold metal, and Loki found him beautiful, even when he'd thought those colors were forever tarnished to him.

Distracted, one of the Hawk's arrows caught his cape, and Loki snarled, casting a blast of magic across Times Square at the Avenger.

The phrase was that they "burned through an ice storm." Considering Loki's heritage, he did not miss the irony that the first time he should think the phrase could be justly applied to someone, they were fighting him.

Well, partially fighting him.

At the moment, Stark was slightly more occupied with the three dozen doombots swarming around Times Square. Loki hadn't been the one to instigate this fight; he'd simply shown up in the midst of the battle to make it a bit more chaotic. The Avengers were really here to battle Victor von Doom, a name that Loki still couldn't even think without having to suppress laughter. Midgardians and their dramatic tendencies.

One of the doombots got in a decent hit against Stark, and Loki waited for his brother to arrive and come to the rescue like he normally did when it involved flying foes. Stark took another hit, surrounded by almost an entire dozen of the bots all on his own, and Loki leaned forward, looking for the flash of a red cape. Why was that mindless oaf never where he was needed? One more good hit, and Stark's suit was going down- at least temporarily.

And then Loki saw him. Thor was half-way across the battlefield, apparently working in tangent with the Widow, which was… new, to say the least, and though it seemed their Captain had finally noticed Stark's distress, no one was close enough to get there in time with the weapons they had on hand. As Loki watched Stark's suit start to lose altitude, he couldn't help but feel how wrong the entire scene was.

Stark was a force of nature, and nature always won in the end.

But sometimes, he supposed, it did need help.

Without looking or moving at all from his position, Loki sent out a wave of energy from where he sat with a flash of his green eyes. The energy ripped through the dozen doombots surrounding Stark and left the Avenger untouched, shattering the doombots beyond repair.

There was a beat as all of the Avengers stared at him- his magical signature was unmistakable- and Loki ignored them.

It didn't take much longer for the rest of the doombots to be mopped up, and then it was just Loki and the Avengers. Loki remained to exchange a few verbal barbs, as normal, before vanishing back to his resting place.

Stark landed in front of him, not so different from normal, and lifted his faceplate. Again, nothing out of the norm. Now he would throw an insult, Loki would respond, and they would continue until one of the other foolish mortals thought that they had an opening. Loki would vanish, and that would be the end of that. This was basically routine at this point.

However, the words that came out of Stark's mouth were not the expected ones.

"Thank you."

Loki started, looking down at the mortal in surprise from his perch in a tree.

"For the doombots," Stark clarified, as though there were anything else for which he'd be thanking the trickster god.

"You're welcome." To be honest, Loki's response probably startled him as much as it did the other Avengers, but he'd been so thrown by the shockingly honest gratitude from Stark that all wit seemed to have fled.

There was a beat where neither one of them seemed certain of what to do.

The moment was shattered as the Captain threw his shield, and Loki deflected before promptly vanishing with an impish smirk.

It wasn't until much later that something occurred to the god.

A firestorm was a definite force of nature, a powerful, destructive, and yet healing force. Tony Stark was a firestorm; this was beyond dispute.

But an ice storm was also a force of nature.

And nature was always right. Nature always won.

So how could they both win?

Obviously, if they were on the same side.


End file.
